


Envious Desires

by Anonymous



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt, Feanorincest, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Violence, implied ships: Finrod/Curufin - Curufin/Celegorm - Fingon/Maedhros - Celegorm/Celebrimbor, jealous Celegorm, things after Nargothrond are not okay, who can blame them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 11:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7637539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for the prompt: Celegorm/Maedhros, in the forest? (which turned out entirely different than planned)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Envious Desires

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amyfortuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/gifts).



> Thank you for sending in this prompt :)  
> Title is taken from the quote by Antisthenes: "As iron is eaten away by rust, so the envious are consumed by their own passion"

Celegorm didn’t know anymore why he had followed Maedhros deep into the forest in the first place, why he had tracked him down like prey – what was he even thinking?

 _‘To make things right again,’_ he lied to himself, not for the first time in the past days.

Nothing on Arda could ever make things right again, not between them nor anybody else. They’ve left a vile trail of destruction behind, scorched earth no matter where they went and what they did.

The past days had been too much. That was at least no lie.

The endless accusations that had tumbled from Maedhros’s lips the past days, the never-ending quarrels with Curufin, who never failed to complain about the lack of luxury, the loneliness of his empty bedroll.

 _‘Nargothrond got him spoiled like the spoiled little brat he was,’_ Celegorm thought, not without bitterness as immediately the distasteful image of naked Curufin amidst Finrod’s fine silks appeared.

Finrod was dead, a good while already, for Celegorm however, he would always live on in his memory as for the golden king of Nargothrond his brother had sacrificed what they have once shared.

Trust and understanding.

Respect and love.

Or had he been a fool throughout all the ages?

Celegorm didn’t know the answer to the question that relentlessly plagued him like a poisoned arrow.

He didn’t know why Maedhros, marred and cold and bitter, should be able to sooth the persisting ache in his heart, should listen to his sorrows and thoughts.

What was he even thinking to follow him? Maedhros, who had turned as cold as the icy winds blowing about the fortress of stone and ice without any warmth left within him should give him solace? Perhaps…

_‘A fool’s hope.’_

Naturally, Maedhros was not amused when he realized he had been followed when most likely he sought a few hours of peace and quiet.

No matter how hard Celegorm tried, he didn’t succeed in snatching a friendly word from his brother.

 

*

“Can’t we just pretend–“ tried Celegorm, but Maedhros cut him off, not for the first time today.

“Pretend?” Maedhros’s laughter was fey, malicious and dangerous alike. Clearly he was upset. “Pretend that everything is as it was once, a time when the air wasn’t heavy with smoke and ash, before we’ve left behind the innocent children we’ve been on the distant shores? We are what we are, what the oath has made of us – murderers, kinslayers,  –” as he spoke he eyed Celegorm from head to toe. “A forsaken bunch of outlaws.”

It was hard to deny the truth.

Maedhros’s lips twitched shortly before he asked: “Say, dearest brother: what got you kicked out of our cousin’s hall in the first place? Has someone – Artaresto perhaps – found out about what you and your brother share late at night?”

Celegorm flinched – of late, their desires hadn’t been confined to the safety of the night, if anything had happened between them. But, to the best of his knowledge, they never have been discovered, so unlike Finrod and Curufin. Before his inner eye Finrod pressed against the wall appeared; with Curufin kneeling in front of him in an obscene act of fealty.

“Or was your little brother not enough plaything for you anymore? Have you taken advantage of any kind? Tyelko, don’t tell me that–“

The words lingered between them, cold and threatening, and with wide eyes Celegorm regarded his eldest brother before hurt spread visibly across his marred face. Although Maedhros never finished the sentence, the accusation bit deep, as all too clearly the implication of those words was.

He hasn’t – not once. Not of the narcissistic king with his golden locks for whom Curufin had fallen for, least for his moronic little brother who, at the end, did what Finrod was never able to.

Well, possibly he had taken advantage of another kind… but Maedhros’s question was limited to those golden Arafinwëans. There was no need to tell that more than once his nephew has warmed his bed when Curufin lingered amidst emerald silks, that he had compared their various skills; actually, there was no need to speak at all, as Celegorm didn’t know what to say anymore.

He wasn’t the scheming diplomat some of his brothers were, gifted with the magic of words, nor was he able to keep his emotions at bay, not when his mind was caught in a maelstrom of hurt, loss and betrayal. Everything had been too much the past weeks, perhaps all his life.

Celegorm’s strength lay elsewhere, a strength – feral and dangerous, a trait which recently he seldom was able to control.

Apparently his silence was answer enough. “I see,” stated Maedhros, his gaze hard and frosty like the wind that got caught in Celegorm’s filthy hair.

It was then, when Celegorm lost it, his eyes gleaming in the twilight of the forest, drool gathering in the corners of his mouth.

How did his own brother dare to accuse him like this when it had been Curufin who took advantage of Finrod’s various weaknesses to usurp the golden throne? Gold and silver, emeralds and other shiny things with which Curufin had showered the wretched creature, Finrod’s weakness for dark hair and ivory skin, a weakness that wasn’t so unlike his own?

Like a furious animal he stood there, ready to jump on his prey, like the beast Curufin loved to name him – and so he did. With a furious howl he leapt at his brother who perhaps has already expected his move, pinning him to the nearest tree with such a strength that he briefly feared Maedhros’s bones would scatter under his assault. They didn’t.

_‘Bad weeds grow tall.’_

“What gives you the right to speak like this?” he hissed. “You of all, you who fucked our cousin throughout the ages, perhaps still fuck him – or is it now the other way round? You who cannot say no to one of his own kin if swayed. Remember, you fell once already for my irresistible charms.”

Maedhros snorted in disdain, yet unimpressed Celegorm continued: “Do you think you are free of guilt, as you thought you were when you stood aside when father put the ships to the torch?”

“No,” Maedhros stated, so calm and composed that Celegorm’s fury only intensified. “I’ve contributed my fair share to the pile of guilt our family has harvested throughout the years, I can’t deny it, will not deny it.”

Now it was Celegorm’s turn to laugh out loud, nails digging deep into his brother’s shoulders until he could feel Maedhros’s tunic turn wet beneath his fingertips.  “Reflection on your deeds doesn’t make you a better being than I – at the end we’ll all be judged the same.”

There were very few things that frightened Celegorm, however, the prospect of Námo’s halls never failed to make him uncomfortably. “So why not make it worth the punishment?” asked Celegorm without receiving a reply. “Oh wait – no, I can’t believe it.” Again, he laughed – fey and bitter, just as their father had laughed when he had burned the ships. “You are still dreaming to be happily reunited with your beloved cousin once we’re all dead, confess how true you’ve kept to the promises made so long ago like some tavern wench helplessly in love.” It was envy that forced the words out of his mouth, because he knew that Fingon most likely felt exactly the same, when his own promises and illusions have turned to ash.

Not a second later, the back of Maedhros’s hand landed on his cheek with such a strength that his skin cracked open. He didn’t mind. If he was honest he deserved it well, hated himself for having said what he had; they shared – still share what he had always wanted to. In the light of his brother’s truthfulness he saw his own failure, in Fingon’s loyalty, Curufin’s most malicious traits.

Fingon and Maedhros shared exactly what he had ever wanted, the beautiful illusion that had scattered the day they had set foot inside Nargothrond’s gloomy halls.

Why was he denied such a deep friendship, why loved he one who loved to play false?

He wanted it, craved to at least taste a tiny glimpse.

Without much thought he tightened the grip he had on his brother’s shoulders, leaning in to kiss him hard with bloodied lips.

The fact that Maedhros parted his mouth for him was encouragement and consent enough, at least for Celegorm whose nightly games were often accompanied by pleaded noes and whines. The taste of him was irresistible, just exactly as it had been when the day they have indulged into juvenile foolishness after having shared too much spiced wine. Overwhelmed by the desire coiling in his belly, Celegorm’s hands began to wander; over the sensitive skin of his brother’s throat, still adorned with a collar of scars, his ears and cheeks as his lips remained pressed against his Maedhros’s mouth.

Stoically, as if trained to remain still, Maedhros didn’t protest when he tore his clothes apart, allowed to kiss and scratch the scarred skin. Even when he released the grip of his hands to pull him down onto the mossy ground, Maedhros did not complain nor fight him. Though marred, his eldest brother still could give him a good fight, yet nothing Maedhros ever did. In his blindness it never occurred to Celegorm to spare a thought to think why, not even when his eyes met the scar running down from his brother’s navel to his most private parts where hungrily Celegorm lingered with hands and lips and eyes.

“If you decide to continue, could you do me one favor?” Maedhros asked, and briefly Celegorm looked up to meet his gaze, a smile playing at his lips. “Do at least not so clearly pretend that I am somebody else.”

The smile transformed into lips parted in shock as his hands froze on Maedhros’s thighs, as he realized what he had been about to do. With horror and shame, Celegorm regarded his brother, lying fragile and shivering beneath his hands.

Never before in his life had he hated himself as right now, felt so beyond miserably and saw so clearly what a filthy savage he had become. “Pardon me, Maitimo,” was all he managed to force past his stained lips, tears of frustration mingling with the remains of blood on his blood. “I was not –“

“Hush,” said Maedhros, as he sat up and wrapped his arms around Celegorm’s quivering form. “Mind to tell me why you have originally followed me?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well .. i am still not entirely certain how I should feel about this story.
> 
> I am on tumblr, feel free to say hello over there


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